Why We Do What We do
by cuccos want to kill me
Summary: Ever wonder what drove your favorite characters to become who they are? This explains their memories that drove them. Open to character suggestions Short!Chapters!
1. Chapter 1:Leon S Kennedy

**Why We Do the Things We Do**

**Chapter 1: Leon S. Kennedy**

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_There is one memory of my childhood that I will never forget. I live by it; It's what got me into the trouble I'm in.  
_When I was 10 or 11, I was in sixth grade. You know how in Middle School they're trying to get you to figure out what you want to do when you grow up? Well, it was one of those days when the school hired a bunch of people with nothing better to do to come over and talk to the kids about their job. In my class, a police officer came in: His name was Jon Sherms, and at the time I thought he was the most boring guy on Earth. For most of his speech, I was dozing off or goofing around with the kids around me. I didn't really think much of it, being a kid. Then, later, on my way home, I was being a typical kid and was playing in the street. I hadn't even noticed the car -And she hadn't noticed me- before it was too late. But then, before I was squashed, Officer Sherms grabbed me and pulled me out of the way. I was speechless, to say the least! He saved my life, and instead of yelling at me or scolding me, he personally took me home to make sure I was alright...

After that, I suddenly became aware of the things he was doing. I'd never noticed it before the incident, but he was quite the neighborhood superhero. He did all kinds of things: Stopping burgulars, rescuing wounded animals, rehab help, stopping drug-chains, etc. The more I heard about him, the more I wanted to meet him again and apologize for being rude and thank him for saving me. It's a bit embaressing for me to admit, but he was my idol!

One day, I was flipping through channels when I stopped on the news. I froze as I saw the Headline: "**_NEIGHBORHOOD HERO KILLED IN 3-HOUR_ SHOOTING**". He was on a routine round around Resser St. when he noticed a suspicious group of men in an alley. He questioned them, but one of the men dropped some kind of drug. Jon was about to arrest them, but, in a panic, they shot him. Just like that. He was dead. My hero was dead. And I never got to thank him.

Because of this, I decided that I wanted to continue his legacy. I wanted to become a hero like him to return the favor. I don't think I'm doing that bad, huh?


	2. Chapter 2:Claire Redfield

**Why We Do The Things We Do**

**Chapter 2: Claire Redfield**

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_Some people ask why my brother and I are so close, and 2 memories come to mind the most often. You see...  
__Heh. I'll never forget it. It was the Spring of 1990, I was 11-years-old. At that time, my brother, Chris, and I had been going to an old and abandoned construction zone. My brother was 17 at the time, so he should have known better, but still, everyday we went, playing like there was nothing wrong. A lot of times, my brother would mess with the dormant machines and I would yell at him, for the noise was sure to get us in trouble. Nothing really happened though... Then one day, my brother went too far: He hotwired the giant rane and started wrecking everything! I tried to stop him, but the noise was just too loud! I knew I had to get to him before we got into trouble, so I climbed my way up to him. I guess I wasn't holding on tight enough, because he made a sudden jerk, sending me off. THIS he saw, and leaned over to see if I was alright. The idiot wasn't paying attention and the wrecking ball came at him. I remember running faster I ever had in my life and yelling his name over and over. Because of the smoke, I could see much inside, and when I finally got to him, he was unconsious, his head dripping blood on one side. _

_I shook him, trying to wake him -Being 11, I hadn't known about concusions or head trauma and all that-. I called his name, hoping he would wake. I smacked him, thinking he would wake. Though, he just sat there, limp, with his head bleeding. Not knowing what else to do, I called my mom. She was there in less than five minutes, with some firemen to get him down -The seat he was on was very high and only accesable through climbing, so the firemen had to use their ladder to gentley get him down-. I stayed with him in the hospital that whole day, holding his hand. I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't sleep, I wouldn't even move from my place. The next morning, he woke up, whining like a baby at how his head hurt. His complaining made me so mad, I smacked him. I had tears in my eyes and I was ready to break down, yet my anger kept me staring angrily at him._

_"You scare me to death, thinking you're dying, and when you finally wake up you say THAT?" I remember saying to him. Chris just sat there for a while, staring at me quiver with anger and repressed sadness. Finally, he grabbed me and hugged me. I squeezed him with all my might and burst into tears, not being able to contain and repress it any longer. _

_"I'm sorry, Claire. It won't happen again, I promise," Chris mumbled sincerely. I knew he meant what he said, but..._

_"You liar! You're always doing things to make me worry about you! You always will!" I replied, still bawling._

_"Hey, that's what big brothers are for!" Chris chuckled, as if this were all a big joke to him. _

_"I-..." I was about to yell at him, but I just couldn't bring myself to argue with him anymore, considering the circumstances. "Don't go back to that construction site ever again. Let's find somewhere _safe_ to play from now on."_

_After that, we started playing at his friend, Barry's, house._

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_The year after that, we were all getting ready to go to the beach. It was such a calm, sunny summer day, no clouds in the sky or a single chill in the wind... How anything bad could've happened that day, I don't understand..._

_We were all set: I had the umbrellas, Chris had the picnic basket, Mother had the towels, and Dad had the keys. Everything else we didn't carry went in the trunk, our very small trunk, and most of it fit. Only the small table we brought didn't, so my father put it in the back with my brother and I. I gave him such a hard time about it, complaining and whining like the immature kid I was. The table was so big, it rested on Chris and I's laps and was as high as the car's roof, secluding us from our parents. _

_I didn't learn until after the incident, but a drunk driver skipped a red light and rammed us head on, killing my parents. I found out that the only thing that kept us alive... Was the table._

_Since my brother was 18, he decided to become my guardian, instead of sending me to myrelatives that I'd never known. For the first week, my brother was never around, just out trying to find a job and handling our parents' affairs. I was left to remourse by myself. After he found a paid internship as a pilot, though, we were thick as thieves again. He taught me to stop feeling sorry for myself and my past. He also taught me how to fight and defend myself as his job slowly became military training. After my parents' death, we became even closer... He's the only one I have left, that is why I will protect him at any cost._


End file.
